


Well Here We Go Again

by ItsTeatimeSomewhere



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexuality, F/F, F/M, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsTeatimeSomewhere/pseuds/ItsTeatimeSomewhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People like Louis don't have soulmates, because people like Louis can't be loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Here We Go Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aclosetlarryshipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aclosetlarryshipper/gifts).



> When I found out who I was writing for, I got hella scared because Liz is one of my favorite writers, so trying to do her justice is always nerve-wracking! But I hope I did your prompt justice, and I hope you like this! Thanks as always to Gayle, my fabulous wonderful amazing beautiful beta. I hope you all enjoy! xoxo.
> 
> The title comes from "Steady As She Goes" by The Raconteurs, which isn't really the aesthetic of this piece, but the lyrics are really cool as a song about asexuality, so I recommend you all listen to it!  
> Find me on tumblr [](Www.bourgeoix.tumblr.com)here !

Soulmates were a fact of life. They were something you learned to live with, accept, and even enjoy. Entire cultures were built around soulmates and love, something Louis Tomlinson could not abide. Sure, it was lovely seeing people gasp in the park and look at each other’s arms, tears spilling from their eyes before they fell into a passionate kiss, but to Louis, soulmates seemed stupid and useless. Why would a word or sentence on your arm be able to tell who was the best person for you? It seemed outdated and, quite frankly, superfluous. Like society was still stuck in the dark ages of arranged marriages and the Black Plague.

Louis, though, might have been biased, as his soulmates story wasn’t turning out the way he wanted.  
Just like everyone else, a tattoo appeared on his arm when he turned thirteen, supposedly signifying his soulmate’s first words to him. Most people got cute words like “hi” or “you’re so beautiful,” but Louis just had one: “No.” Nothing more, just a final end, as if he would never have a chance. People got superstitious about soulmate words, and to his grandmother, Louis was doomed.

“She’s probably dead! Or a leper!” She would cry at family gatherings, lamenting the loss of her eldest grandson’s love. “Negative words for negative souls!”

Of course Louis knew this was all crap, but he still felt it was meaningful in some way. After all, his life had been one big “no” and his soulmate would probably be no different.

When Louis turned fifteen, his friend Stan got his first girlfriend. They would walk through the town eating ice cream with Stan exclaiming over her kisses and tits, while Louis caught every drip of his own ice cream instead of focusing on Stan’s vivid descriptions. He didn’t see the appeal of curvy hips and seductive eyes. There was no tug, no pull like Stan would describe. To Louis, they were just girls.

When he explained to Stan, his friend came up with a solution: “You’re probably gay, mate! A right poof! D’ya get all hot and bothered by manly men and stubble?” He then proceeded to laugh his ass off, much to Louis’ dismay. However crass the sentiment, Louis still began to wonder. Was he gay? Was it just women who didn’t attract him?

That revelation--of sorts--led him to his flamboyant years. An attempt to embrace his gayness made him the face of gay pride at his college even though he lacked any motivation to touch his own dick, let alone someone else’s. Regardless, he wore braces and tight trousers and had the Village People as his ringtone, so people simply began to assume. His tattoo, though, was another story entirely.

Louis was sure there was something wrong with him. He wasn’t attracted to girls, he wasn’t attracted to guys, and maybe he was broken. His tattoo clearly wasn’t going to include a positive meeting between him and his soulmate, not if their first word was “no.” As doubt began to grow in his mind about his lack of interest in anyone, the tattoo served as a constant reminder of his failure. He did all he could to cover it up, getting new tattoos all the time, but the word kept bleeding through. Soon, his arms were covered in miscellaneous and meaningless tattoos that did nothing to hide the offending mark on his forearm, and Louis was out of options. Growing up in an incredibly wealthy home, Louis had been excited to show his soulmate all he could provide for them. Now, it seemed less likely than ever that he would ever get a soulmate, let alone stay with them. He moved to the city, away from his old friends and classmates, and attempted to start a new life, hoping that maybe he could survive alone.

**xx**

It's an off night for Louis, and even Zayn has noticed. He and Liam are visiting for dinner, and Louis is simply picking at his food and barely attempting to make conversation.

Zayn gives his pitying glances every once in a while between Liam's jovial discussions of his own soulmate, a lovely girl named Sophia. Louis loves Sophia; she's beautiful and witty and smart and charming, as well as a health nut like Liam, but he just can't deal with soulmate talk tonight. With a curt thank you to Liam for the dinner and promises that he'll text when he gets home, Louis pushes out of Zayn's flat into the cold, February air.

Walking down the street in the bitter cold, Louis feels a sudden connection to the deserted streets. February cold isn't like December cold; it is bleak and dismal, no fluffy snow or cheerful carols. Dirty, half-melted snow sits in the gutters as smashed brown grass peaks through. February might be the month for love, what with Valentine's Day and all, but Louis thinks that maybe people invented Valentine's Day to distract themselves from the bleakness of the world outside. As if the warmth of a soulmate in his arms could make it all a little more beautiful. For Louis there would be no reprieve from the gross February weather. His life is the month of February: lonely, cold, and dark.

Turning the corner, Louis begins to look for a cab. He is right by a nightclub, so he assumes that some cabbies must come by here to pick up drunk party animals.

As he passes an alleyway, he hears groaning, and goes to investigate. After all, it’s cold and miserable, and if there’s someone hurt they shouldn’t be left alone. He spots a lump leaned up against the wall as his eyes adjust to the darkness.

“Y’okay, mate?” he asks, taking off his scarf. The lump moves, and Louis is met with dark, beady eyes.

“Yeah, thanks,” the man says with a thick accent. “Sorry ‘bout this.”

Before Louis has a chance to respond, the man stands up and Louis sees he’s nearly twice his height. He turns to walk away but is met with two other men blocking the exit.

“Wait, hold up a second,” Louis stutters, feeling his heart begin to race. “I-you can have my money, okay? Um-I’ll give you whatever you want, just don’t--don’t hurt me.”

The first man smiles, showing his stained teeth. “Yeah, that’s not really how we operate.”

The first punch hits his jaw, and Louis feels a sharp pain run through his head. The second is aimed at his stomach, and the third his head. Then, Louis is out.

**xx**

When he wakes up, it’s to the dank smell of the alley and a boy looming over him. It’s quieter outside, making Louis’ pounding headache even more noticeable. He rubs his eyes, trying not to gag at the smell of trash around him. The boy in front of him reaches forward, as if to grab Louis' head.

"Leave me alone," he bites out, attempting to look fierce instead of pitiful. It doesn't seem to be working well, probably due to him being curled up in a dank alleyway.

The boy looks bewildered, frozen in his movements. "No," he whispers back, eyes wide. "No, you need medical help. You've got a giant gash on your forehead, mate."

"I'm fine, honestly. Just leave me alone or I'll call the police." Louis struggles to stand up, nearly braining himself again as his ankle twists.

"Let me help you," the boy says more firmly, grabbing Louis' arm to hold him steady. Louis feels a spark of warmth, but he doesn't know why. Probably strained something.

"Don't really need your help. 'M perfectly fine." As another wave of nausea sweeps over him, Louis gags.

"I'll stand here all night."

"I'll throw up on you," Louis threatens. Although, it's more of a premonition than a threat as he then proceeds to empty the contents of his stomach on the dingy alley in front of the boy. Wiping his mouth, he groans.

"Will you come now?" They boy asks, patiently. Louis simply nods in response.

Leaning heavily on the boy, the two begin to walk away from the club alley. The farther they get from Louis' area of town, the more nervous he becomes. However, his nerves could also be a reaction to his massive head injury that continues to bleed. Even so, he feels warmer, safer, almost. As if leaning against this random boy is healing him with some sort of magic. Of course, he's probably just losing even more blood, causing him to be loopy.

"I don't even know your name," he mutters, pressing on the wound once more and hissing at the pain.

"It's Harry," the boy--Harry--replies. He chuckles. "And you are?"

"Louis. Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Louis answers, putting on a posh accent, although somewhat marred by his slur.

"Likewise." That's the extent of Louis' speaking ability, so they end up walking in silence, Louis wincing at every blaring car horn or siren. Harry shoots Louis nervous glances every once in awhile, some out of concern and some in awe. Louis would question them, if he weren't too busy trying to stay conscious.

When they reach a dilapidated little complex, Harry pauses, unlocking the front door as a buzzer rings loudly. Three flights of uneven stairs later, Harry jiggles open a beat-up door, the sound of creaking hinges mixing with crying children and shouting in multiple languages.

"This isn't much, yeah, but at least it's not an alleyway?" Harry stands in the middle of a small room, arms sweeping out. There's a tiny kitchenette in one corner, a mattress huddled under a mass of blankets in another, and a stack of cardboard boxes with different labels like "shirts" and "books" and "kitchenware" lining the wall.

Louis is trying to take it all in, but his head is still killing him, and now his ankle has started to sting as well. He's pretty sure ankles aren't supposed to do that. "Um, mind if I take a seat?"

"Oh! Of course! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot." Harry rushes around, building a nest of blankets for Louis and then gently leading him towards it. "Um, not much to eat, m'afraid, but I'll get you some water?"

Without waiting for an answer, he grabs a glass and fills it from the already leaking tap, handing it to Louis. When Louis takes a sip, it's lukewarm and metallic, but still soothing. He relaxes into the blanket nest, moaning as pressure builds on his bruises.

"Thanks again, mate," he mumbles, drinking more water.

"Uh, no problem. Yeah. It's definitely okay. 100% alright. Yep." Harry grabs a wad of paper towels, handing them to Louis as he sinks to the ground next to the mattress, sitting cross-legged and fidgeting.

"Are you okay? I mean, I can't believe I'm asking you that, but you seem nervous." Louis asks,  
tilting his head and then wincing when it aches.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I mean," he pauses, giving Louis a shrewd look. "Um, this might seem like a weird question, but can I see your tattoo?"

Louis doesn't have to ask which one he means. Hands shaking, he rolls up his sleeve, showing the mangled mass of tattoos and, as clear as day, the word "no."

Harry nods. "I...I thought so." He takes off his own sweatshirt, revealing a thin and scrappy t-shirt. Holding his own arm forward, Louis sees "leave me alone" written out on his inner forearm.

"So you think we're soulmates?" Louis scoffs. "I was practically out of my mind in the alley. Why would my pain-addled mind give you the words to your supposed "beloved"?" He quickly rolls down his sleeve, hiding the offending tattoo. "No, we're not soulmates. That's not possible."

"But, you can't just say that," Harry replies, eyebrows furrowed together and frowning. "Does this feel like nothing?" He reaches out for Louis' hand, enveloping it in his own.

Louis feels that rush of warmth run back up his arm, but he jerks away instead of reveling in it. "I don't feel anything," he maintains, struggling to stand. "You're batshit."

Harry is aghast. "Really? That's--that's impossible. Are you lying?"

"Of course not, why would I do that?" Finally gaining his balance, Louis makes his way towards the door. "Thanks for taking care of me and all that, but I'd better get going. Stuff to do, and all that--"

"--it's midnight."

"--I'll catch a cab." With one final nod at Harry, he opens the door. "Again, thanks."

"Louis, wait!" Harry cries as Louis slams the door shut. Breathing heavily, he makes his way down the stairs, ignoring his shaking hands. He walks down the street, attempting to quell his anxiety, eventually finding a cab a few blocks away from Harry's apartment. Head aching, he rattles off his address to the driver and sits back, focusing on deep breaths and calming thoughts. Thoughts that were decidedly not of a certain boy accusing him of being soulmates.

**xx**

Louis doesn’t wake up until three in the afternoon. Even then, it’s not on purpose, but due to the incessant banging on his front door. Louis really needs to give Zayn a key.

Groaning and wiping his face, Louis putters out of his bedroom to unlock the door, barely opening his eyes. He winces at his head wound, entire body aching with bruises.

“Louis, what the fuck?” Zayn begins, pushing past Louis. “I’ve tried calling you six times, mate. We were supposed to get lunch, remember? Honestly, what did you do last night? Were you on such a bender that you ended up—“

Finally, Zayn turns to take a closer look at Louis. “Bro, are you okay? Have you been crying? What the fuck happened to your head”

Louis shakes his head. He doesn’t really want to talk, because that means having to explain everything that happened last night. Louis would be much happier pretending it was all a nightmare.

Zayn, of course, won’t stand for this. He walks over and pulls Louis into a deep hug, smelling of stale weed and cologne. “Did you get in a barfight?”

Louis just shrugs, leaning into Zayn.

“C’mon,” Zayn murmurs, leading him to the couch. “Let’s get you comfortable. I’ll call Liam and tell him to come over. Want to play some FIFA?” He continues to putter around, plumping up pillows and blankets and fiddling with the TV. After sending a text to Liam, he flops down next to Louis, handing him a controller. The startup music begins to play, and Louis is suddenly glad Zayn was the first one over.

If Liam had shown up, Louis wouldn’t have been able to get away with a shrug and a cuddle. But Zayn gives him that. Zayn gives him complete and utter comfort and understanding, no questions asked.

When Louis came out to Zayn, he could tell Zayn was confused. It took a bit of time to explain what Louis thought of sexual attraction and lust, since Louis didn’t really understand it himself, but Zayn just nodded and gave Louis a hug, talking about support and love and all that. They don’t really talk about it that much, but that’s what Louis likes.

When Liam finally arrives, he’s laden with soup. Not just any soup, though. Liam’s Homemade Chicken Tortilla Soup With Chicken On The Side Because Zayn Is A Vegetarian. It’s Louis’s favorite soup, and Liam knows that.

“I heard Louis was sick?” He asks, breathing heavily. “I stopped at the store and got some painkillers and ice packs, but I realized I didn’t know what you were sick with, so I just got some other stuff too.” He drops an overstuffed plastic bag on the couch and Louis can see tissues, hand sanitizer, cough drops, and three different types of thermometers.

Louis just groans. While Zayn’s love might be shown quietly, Liam’s was loud and smothering.

Liam smiles and pets Louis on the head, going to warm up the soup. “We’ll get you better, don’t worry Louis!” He calls from the kitchen.

Between Liam and Zayn, Louis doesn’t get a moment to himself for three days. His fridge is full of soup, because Liam can’t stop making it, and he’s been near-permanently moved to the couch, spending most of his time cuddled under piles of blankets. Even though he’s not really sick, every time Louis thinks back to that night, he feels awful. His stomach turns and his head pounds, bottom lip shaking whenever he thinks about the look of betrayal on Harry’s face.

So he doesn’t think about it. He lets himself get lost in FIFA and Man City’s chances of beating Liverpool on Sunday and Liam’s fabulous soups (his minestrone is particularly delicious). He slowly starts to talk again, cracking jokes and ordering Liam around, refusing to answer any questions about the reasons for his slump.

But after a few days, even Louis gets tired of the avoidance. Tired of staying locked in his house—large as it is—and tired of feeling sorry for himself. It’s something he has to get over. He’s weird, yes, and he’s going to be alone forever, yes, but that’s something he has to accept. No use whining about something that’s never going to change.

He stands, stretching his arms out while Zayn mumbles awake from where he’s situated in his own nest next to Louis’.

“’M goin’ to get coffee,” Louis mumbles, blindly pulling on a sweatshirt from the floor. It turns out to be Zayn’s, but Louis is comforted by the smell so he doesn’t change. When Zayn gives a tired thumbs up, Louis slips on his shoes and walks out, grabbing his wallet right before the door closes.

The fresh air is cleansing, and Louis is shocked at the difference between the stale house and the busy street. It’s a grey morning, and Louis doesn’t even regret not wearing a coat. After being holed up for four days, the brisk air and biting wind are freeing.

He starts to walk, looking for somewhere to get good coffee. There are three coffee shops within walking distance from his house, and Louis chooses the closest, because it is rather cold.

When he stumbles into the Bean Machine, the chatter and coffee smell hit him with warmth. He balls his hands in his sweatshirt, getting in the long line to order his and Zayn’s regulars: non-fat extra-shot caramel macchiato for him, and a plain black coffee for Zayn. He’s like a walking stereotype.

He reaches the counter, picking at a string on his sweatshirt before looking up.

“Welcome to The Bean Machine, what can I get for you?”

That voice is familiar. Too familiar. Louis locks eyes with Harry and his heart stops. This can’t be happening.

“Louis?” Harry breathes, eyes wide.

Without answering, Louis breaks out of line and strides towards the door. He hears Harry calling after him, but he just keeps walking. Unfortunately, it seems that Harry is blessed with incredibly long legs.

“Louis, stop, slow down,” Harry huffs out, finally lunging in front of Louis. “I—I just want to talk.”

“Fine.” Louis knows he isn’t getting away that easily. He has to deal with this and explain himself. Then, maybe, Harry will move on.

Harry’s quiet for a second. “Why…why did you run? We’re soulmates, right? I mean, our tattoos match an everything, so.” He twists his fingers in his apron. “Was it something about me? Oh god.” Realization dawns on his face. “Are you straight? I’ve heard of mix-ups with gender between soulmates, is that why? Are you just—oh god. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“No, Harry, I’m not straight,” Louis quickly responds. Harry blushes, but stops rambling and looks at Louis with eager eyes. “I’m just…we wouldn’t work, okay? I don’t know how else to explain it. We’re not meant to be.”

“What does that even mean?” Harry says, confused. “Like, that makes no sense? How would you even know that we won’t work? If you’re not straight and your word is tattooed on my arm, and my word is on you, then how can you say any differently?”

“You don’t understand—“

“Yeah, because you won’t explain it to me.”

Louis is torn. On one hand, Harry looks so sad and cute, with his fluffy hair and rumpled apron, he just wants to give in. But the other, much bigger part of him knows that it will only end worse for Harry. He’ll get too invested and then get betrayed. Louis can’t do that to him.

“One date.”

“What?” Louis is shocked out of his thoughts.

“Give me one date. One date to change your mind. You’ll see.”

Louis feels sick to his stomach. He can’t do that to Harry. Can’t lead him on like that, it would just be cruel. But Harry seems so hopeful, and it’s only one date. And he is rather cute.

“Alright. You can have one date, and then you’ll be proven wrong, okay?”

Harry’s grin seems to go on for miles. “You won’t regret this, you’ll see.”

They exchange phone numbers, and plan to meet back at the coffee shop tomorrow night. Harry awkwardly waves goodbye, smile never really leaving his face. And Louis is excited, even if he knows it’s all going to fall apart.

**xx**

Louis doesn’t explain to Liam and Zayn where he’s going, mostly because there would be too many questions and no answers. He mumbles something about going out for a drink, waving goodbye to the pair who are engrossed in some horror movie on Louis’ couch. Honestly, if Liam wasn’t happily engaged…

He meets Harry outside of the coffee shop and start walking towards what Harry promises is an amazing restaurant. Louis gnaws at his lip, nerves preventing him from engaging in the vapid small-talk Harry attempts to keep up.

Reaching the restaurant, Harry leads Louis in and they’re seated almost immediately. When Louis picks up the menu, his stomach growls.

“Get whatever you want here, I’m paying and it’s all delicious,” Harry affirms, smiling. Louis nods, looking down at the options. It’s not too pricey, but still seems like quality food.

Their waitress comes by, introducing herself as Maggie. She takes their drink orders: a glass of Riesling for Louis and water for Harry. After she leaves, Louis gives Harry an odd look.

“Just water?”

“’M not really in the mood for alcohol,” Harry mumbles, ducking into the menu again. He seems engrossed in the options, lips moving silently as he flips through the pages. At one point, while he thinks Louis isn’t paying attention, he reaches into his pocket and peeks into his wallet.

Maggie comes back, asking if they’re ready to order.

“Thanks, love, I’ll have the seared tuna with a braised fennel salad,” Louis orders, looking to Harry.

“And I’ll have, uh, a cup of French onion soup, thanks.” Harry says quietly, putting his menu down.

Louis sighs and turns to Maggie. “Actually, can you give us a few minutes?” He smiles at her and she walks away and Louis gives Harry a knowing look.

“Harry, honestly, let me pay.”

“No!” Harry says firmly, “I invited you out, so I’ll pay. It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“You’ve got to get something more substantial than a cup of soup.”

“Maybe I just really like French onion.”

Louis sighs. “Harry, please.”

“I forced you to do this,” Harry argues, “just let me compensate you for your time.”

Louis takes a sip of his wine that Maggie had dropped off earlier. “Harry, I’ve got the money, and I want to, okay?”

Harry frowns, but eventually nods. Success.

“Now, order something more like a meal than an appetizer, please,” Louis says, waving Maggie over.

“Made a decision, gentlemen?” she asks, smiling at them.

Louis nods. “Yep. I’m sticking with the tuna and Harry’ll have…” he trails off, and Harry sighs.

“I’ll take the aubergine risotto, please.”

“Oh, and also a bottle of house red, please?” Louis adds on.

“Of course. I’ll have that out as soon as possible.” Maggie takes their menus and walks away.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Thank you though, really. I wish I could have paid, but—“

“You don’t have to explain to me, Harry,” Louis consoles.

Taking a breath, Harry just smiles.

“Why d’ya get the aubergine thing anyways?” Louis ponders.

“I try to be a vegetarian whenever I can. I mean, it’s hard because it’s not easy to eat cheap and also meat-free, especially when, y’know, it’s been awhile since your last meal, but I try? I just…it’s so sad, Lou, all those animals…” Harry trails off, eyes doleful and despondent.

This boy, honestly. Louis is kind of in awe of him.

“I know it’s stupid, and all, but—“

“It’s not stupid, Harry, I think it’s noble,” Louis replies softly, smiling as Maggie drops off the bottle of wine along with two fresh glasses. He pours a glass for Harry and himself, lifting it up in a toast.

“To the animals,” he proclaims. Their glasses clink and they both take a sip, Louis focusing on the taste instead of Harry’s sparkling eyes.

Just then, it hits him. He’s on a date with an attractive, charming boy, and he’s having a good time. It’s not awkward and awful, it’s nice. Harry’s sweet, and the wine is good. These thoughts comfort him until he remembers that Harry will hate him and it’ll all fall apart later on, but he can push those self-deprecating thoughts away for now, at least until after they finish the meal.

The rest of dinner goes off beautifully. Harry convinces Louis to try some of his aubergine risotto, and it’s not half bad. They finish the bottle of wine, and Louis orders them Prosecco to go with the cake they split for dessert. The alcohol is bubbly and sweet, and Harry savors it almost more than the cake. His cheeks get red and flushed, eyes glassy and cheerful. His voice gets a little louder and his laugh a little bigger, but Louis doesn’t want it to end.

After he pays the bill—not letting Harry see the cheque—they walk out of the warm restaurant into the cold of the street. Suddenly, Louis is nervous. He’s nervous because Harry is loose and a little drunk and that usually translates directly to sex, and how is Louis supposed to turn him down? He gets fidgety, walking more briskly than perhaps necessary. When Harry moves to take his hand, Louis flinches away.

“Um, I had a good time tonight,” Louis says quickly.

“Me too, it was so wonderful,” Harry continues, voice dreamy.

“Yeah, yeah, but, um, I don’t think this is going to work out, sorry. Um, bye.” With a short wave of his hand, he starts to run, hoping Harry will be too drunk to follow. He’s right, and all he hears are a few calls of his name before he turns the corner.

He falls asleep that night in a big empty bed in a big empty house, lonelier than he’s ever felt before.

**xx**

Louis holds himself together much better after the second Harry incident. He wakes up at a reasonable hour, succeeds in making himself breakfast, and even agrees to have lunch with Liam and Zayn without them noticing that anything’s off. He’s confident that he can handle this and move on with his life, and he hopes that Harry can do the same.

Of course, fate seems to be working against him in more ways than one, because the topic of soulmates comes up again over curry.

“You and Sophia, you going strong?” Zayn asks as Liam’s face lights up.

“You don’t even know, mate,” he begins. Louis readies himself for a tirade of love. Something that is much too common when Sophia is brought up.

“She’s...it’s incredible. When you’re with your mate, it’s like the world is in slow motion and she’s the only thing moving…”

That doesn’t even make sense, Louis wants to say. Instead, he picks at another piece of chickpea.

“...And her eyes...I could get lost in them…”

Louis checks his watch. Still too early to duck out, and Zayn would most definitely catch him in a lie.

“...But all of that pales in comparison to the sex--”

Louis perks up.

“Soulmate sex...it’s on a whole other level. Of course, it’s hotter than anything else and absolutely incredible, but there’s this bond that you get with your soulmate, something that makes it more than just sex. It’s like we have this connection, when we’re doing it, that pulls us together until there’s nothing left but her. And then we’re on fire--”

Sounds quite dangerous, Louis thinks. But his hands start to shake and thoughts begin to swirl. This is why he and Harry wouldn’t work out. Just more and more reasons piling on top of each other. A lump forms in his throat.

“--And then, I look into her eyes, and I see the universe. It’s the most incredible feeling, and I feel more alive during sex with her than any other time in my life. I can’t even begin to do it justice but--”

“Okay, Liam, we get it! It’s nice to fuck her. Can’t you just shut up for once?” Louis groans, slamming his fork down on the table. “I don’t think this is appropriate lunchtime conversation!”

“Lou,” Zayn asks softly, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Tears spring to his eyes. “I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to hear about Liam dicking Sophia all the time, right?”

“You’re crying,” Liam says, scooting his chair closer to Louis. “If...if you were uncomfortable, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well I didn’t particularly want to remind you how fucked up I am, now did I?” Louis sniffles, wiping his eyes angrily. Now he’s gone and done it. They’ll never leave him alone after this.

“Wait, is this about your...sex...thing?” Liam asks, trying to be delicate.

“Yes, it’s about my ‘sex thing.’ Thanks for clarifying how I’ll never find a soulmate who’ll want to be with me because I’m too fucked up to want what every other fucking human wants!” Louis stands up, heart beating fast.

“Is this about that guy from the other day?” Zayn jumps in, pulling Louis over to the couch. Liam follows, albeit much more hesitantly, and the three fall into a cuddle.

Louis nods. No use in hiding it anymore. Not when they think he’s batshit anyway. “I saw him last night, for, like, a date. It went well, until we left and I flipped out on him. I mean, I can never be with him, or I’ll have to lie my ass off for the rest of my life, just because I’m too weird to understand the universe in his eyes or something.” He rubs his hands against his face.

“Lou, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Liam pulls Louis into a tight hug. He really does give good hugs.

“But Lou, you’re still soulmates, right? I mean, your words match and all, yeah?” Zayn asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Are we, though? Maybe it’s just some big cosmic mistake.”

“No! You’ve got to take that chance and explain yourself--” Liam begins.

“Can we not talk about this anymore? It’s done and I don’t really want to talk about it,” Louis cuts in, snuggling back into Liam’s side and muffling his voice.

Zayn and Liam murmur in agreement, and the three stay cuddled there, petting Louis and whispering kind words.

**xx**

Life goes on. Louis reads books, gets coffee, takes walks, and does all he can not to think about Harry. This effort is marred, however, by Harry’s occasional texts:

_Hey Louis._

_Could you text me back? I’d love to talk._

_I think we’ve had a misunderstanding._

_Louis._

_Can we meet somewhere?_

_Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry._

Louis ignores them all. Liam and Zayn pester him about going out, and it takes nearly three weeks for them to wear Louis down.

Finally, Liam mentions something about an open mic night where friends of his are going, and Louis relents. They meet at The Pig, a pub down the street from Zayn’s apartment, and Louis is surprised at the crowded atmosphere of the small room. A stage is raised a few feet on one wall, and a bar sits on the opposite side. Crooked tables and chairs are scattered throughout, a few rickety booths sitting on the sides. The room is filled with laughter and the smell of alcohol, with a group of musicians cornered near the stage preparing for their sets.

“M’friend Perrie invited us here,” Liam explains as they find a booth. “Her boyfriend and his friend are playing the opening set! I hear they’re really good.”

The bar begins to quiet down as two figures step onto the stage.

“Hey! ‘M name’s Niall, and this here is my mate Harry! We’re going to be playing a couple covers for you, if that’s all right! Here’s ‘Riptide’ by Vance Joy!”

Louis’ mouth drops open as Niall begins to strum his ukelele and Harry walks up to the microphone. Harry, who looks as beautiful as ever. Harry, who is smiling with effortless charisma as he starts into the first verse.

Louis can’t handle it. So he drinks. He offers to get the first round, ordering shots for the three of them as well as an extra for himself. He downs it at the bar, bringing the others back just as Harry finishes the last note.

“Thanks for the support,” he says, smiling, “you’re all so lovely!”

Louis takes another shot.

As their set progresses, Louis gets more and more drunk. The sharp bite of vodka and gin distracts him from the laughs and goofing around on stage, as well as Liam and Zayn’s comments about how wonderful Harry and Niall are. By the time they finish, Louis is well on his way to being plastered.

Of course that’s when Harry and Niall decide to come over, accompanied by a beautiful purple-haired girl Louis assumes is Perrie.

“Liam! Great to see you again!” She leans in, pressing a kiss on Liam’s cheek. “And who are these two fine fellows?” She turns to Zayn and Louis, who is lounging across Zayn’s lap.

“‘M Zayn, this is Louis,” Zayn begins. He turns to Niall, who's glued to Perrie’s side, and Harry, who’s shuffling nervously behind him. “You guys killed it! Really great show.”

Louis catches Harry’s eye for a second, but quickly looks away, blushing. He bats Zayn’s face, irritated that the attention is off of him. Zayn’s only attempt to mollify him is by petting his hair casually, striking up a conversation with Niall about musical tastes.

The three newcomers settle into the group, pulling up extra chairs to the crowded booth. Drinks flow along with the conversation, but Louis barely speaks two words, only offering up his suggestion for a round of tequila sunrises. Instead, he nuzzles Zayn’s lovely-smelling neck and sips at multiple fruity drinks, eyeing Harry every once in a while.

The man in question keeps up a steady conversation with Liam and Zayn, both of whom seem to like him immensely. Liam is laughing at his stupid puns after only three drinks, a testament to Harry’s comedic abilities as it usually takes at least five drinks to get Liam to such a jovial state. Harry keeps shooting Louis mournful glances, ducking away as soon as Louis catches him. Eventually, he stands.

“Well, this is lovely, but I’m going to go make some rounds, stop by the bar,” Harry declares, “anyone want anything?”

Everyone holds up their half-full glasses except Niall, who shouts for a pint of Guinness. Louis watches Harry walk away, a little spring in his step. When he reaches the bar, a tall, curvy woman slides up next to him, her hand on his shoulder sending a very clear signal.

Louis groans. “He’s gone, ‘s really gone…” he slurs, thumping his glass on the table, the orange slice slipping off the edge.

“What d’ya mean, Lou?” Zayn asks.

“Harry!” Louis shouts. Luckily for him, the din of the pub prevents Harry from hearing.

“What about him?”

“‘s my soulmate, ‘nd now he’s gone ‘nd really left.” Louis pokes Zayn in the chest. “See? I told you he didn’t like me...you lied.”

“Wait, Harry’s your soulmate?” Liam buts in, keeping his voice low.

“Obviously not, if that floozy hanging off of him is anything to go by,” Louis proclaims, waving his arms in Harry’s general direction. “I’m tired of this. Zayn, take me home.”

Waving goodbye to the others, Zayn lugs Louis out of the bar and into a cab. Louis thinks about how he’ll only have Zayn to do this, and how Harry would never want a drunk and messed up soulmate, no matter what he says. He starts to tear up, rubbing his face into Zayn’s shoulder. Consolingly, Zayn cuddles him all the way back to his house, and tucks him in with a glass of water beside him.

“Don’t worry, Lou, you’ll find someone,” Zayn whispers as they shut the door behind them.

**xx**

The next day is fucking freezing. Louis barely wants to leave the house, but he’s already bundled up and he is in desperate need of caffeine. Walking directly into the wind, he rushes into the closest coffee shop he can find, which just so happens to be the Bean Machine. He groans as memories of the day he saw Harry come flooding back, but it’s not worth it to try and find another shop. Instead, he grits his teeth and prays that Harry isn’t working today.

Fate, though, has it out for him. Harry doesn’t make eye contact as he steps up to the counter, muttering out his order. Harry nods, mumbles out the price, and Louis hands over the cash. It’s all very stilted and mundane, and Louis feels unsettled.

While Harry makes his coffee, Louis fidgets with threads on his coat. Harry calls out his name, and Louis walks over. Reaching to grab the coffee, his hand brushes Harry’s and a warm spark goes up his arm.

“Wait--” Harry says, breaking the silence.

Louis looks up.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you have a boyfriend?”

“What?”

“That guy you were with last night, Zayn or something? Like, if you had explained, I would’ve stopped harassing you. But, I mean, non-soulmate relationships have the highest divorce rates in the country...but, whatever. If you’re happy with him, you should’ve told me.”

“I’m not dating Zayn,” Louis scoffs.

Harry takes a step closer, the coffee still between them. “Then why won’t you date me?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t understan--”

“You keep saying that, but you can’t know that!”

“Yes I can, I’m positive!”

“No, I think you’re just a coward! You don’t even want to try.”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up instead of moving on!”

“You want me to move on?” They’re shouting by now, so close that Louis can see every speck and sparkle in Harry’s eyes. “Fine! Just leave, then!”

“Fine!” Louis shouts, garnering a few nasty glances from other customers.

Louis wrenches the coffee out of Harry’s hand. As their connection breaks, his entire body feels cold, and an ache blooms in his chest. He doesn’t let it show, though, wrenching the door open with tears in his eyes.

For some reason, the coffee tastes like shit.

**xx**

Louis walks right past his flat, hailing a cab and taking it to Zayn’s. He raps on the door softly, falling into Zayn’s arms when he answers.

“Harry?” Zayn asks softly.

Louis just nods. Zayn murmurs words of reassurance, leading him to the couch, which has become somewhat of a new home for Louis.

“Louis,” Zayn begins, forcing him into a sitting position. “We need to talk about this.”

“What d’ya mean,” Louis mumbles. “‘M fine.”

“Do you know what Niall said to Liam after we left? He asked if you were the same guy Harry’s been moonin’ over for weeks. The guy’s enamored with you.”

“Doesn’t matter--”

“You’ve said that, I know. And I know you think that because of your sex thing that you’ve got some lonely future with ten thousand cats--”

“--I’m allergic.”

“--So not the point, Lou.” Zayn runs an exasperated hand through his hair. “Y’know, I don’t really get your whole thing, but I get you. And I know you’re funny and charming and loving and one of the most incredible guys I’ve ever met. And I know Harry thinks the same. Sex isn’t the end-all of a relationship, regardless of what society might tell you. Besides, maybe Harry’s like you! You wouldn’t know, though, because you won’t take that chance. You’ve got to be willing to take a chance for love.”

Louis wipes his eyes. He thinks back to Harry calling him a coward, the hurt look on his face.

“Maybe...but what if it all falls apart?” He whispers.

“Isn’t it already in shambles? From the look on your face when you walked in, it couldn’t have been a good time you two were having. Honestly, I think you can only go up from here.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Only if you promise to consider this.”

Louis nods, extending his pinky finger. “Pinky promise.”

Zayn smiles and locks his finger with Louis’. “Pinky promise.”

**xx**

It takes Louis a week to get up the courage to return to the Bean Machine. He spends nearly five minutes standing outside the door, debating whether to walk inside. Eventually, he braves an entrance, looking for Harry.

“How can I help you, love?” asks a girl with purple hair and a nametag that reads “Perrie”.

“I’m here for Harry? Uh, does he still work here?”

Perrie nods, then her eyes widen. “Shit, are you his mate? Oh, I told him you would come back!” She grins, calling Harry’s name into the back room.

Harry pops out, pulling on a neutral face when he sees Louis.

“Are you here to yell at me again?”

Louis just shakes his head. “I want to explain myself.”

Harry leads them to a table in the corner, and Louis sits down nervously. He takes a deep breath.

“Here’s the thing. I don’t like sex or ever want to have sex. I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay with me because we’re soulmates, and I know that soulmates have a lot of sex and it’s a very big part of a soulmate relationship. But I don’t want any of that. Like, I know I’m really weird and fucked up, but, like, ever since puberty I’ve been different and I don’t want to have sex; I don’t see the appeal. I wanted to explain to you so you can make an informed decision, and all.”

“Wait, so you’re asexual?” Harry breaks in, once Louis has to stop and take a breath.

Louis gives him a confused look. “No, I’m just fucked up. What does that even mean?”

“Asexual, like, not being sexually interested in people,” Harry explains. He reaches out and puts a hand on top of Louis’. Another burst of warmth shoots through his arm.  “It’s a valid identity, you know. You’re not weird, or fucked up in any way. You’re just you.” He grins. “And Louis, we’re soulmates. That means I’ll accept you for whoever you are. Sex or no sex, I want to get to know you better because we have something special. I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, including sex.”

Louis is lost for words. He sits in silence, gaping at Harry’s twinkling eyes. “So...you would be okay with dating me? Just....without sex? But still dating? Can….is that possible?”

Harry nods. “Yes, and I would really like to. Can I take you on another date?”

“Uh, yes, I would like that very much.” Louis looks down at their hands, blushing. He feels...elated. As if something in his chest that was crushing his heart is suddenly gone. Harry wants to accept him, wants to try and love him. Louis never thought he would ever meet someone willing to be with him so unconditionally. It’s freeing.

Harry promises to text him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before Louis leaves the coffee shop.

His cheek is warm for the rest of the day. 

**xx**

The next evening, they meet at the coffee shop, Harry pressing another kiss to Louis’ cheek. Waving his arm, he leads Louis down the street.

“So, where are we going?” Louis asks, attempting to put on a charming smile.

“Um, my friend is having a dinner party, and I thought it would be nice for you to get to know a few other friends of mine, especially because you and Niall didn’t speak much at the pub that one time.”

Louis groans. “You know that was because I was drunk and jealous, right?”

Harry nods, laughing. “I would still love for you to meet them, and they’re all interested in my torrid soulmate affair.”

“What do you mean torrid?”

“Well, I’ve always been super scared of finding my soulmate?” He blushes, rubbing his neck. “Like, the words on my arm are ‘leave me alone’, and there’s that old superstition that good words lead to long relationships, and bad words mean trouble and pain, you know?”

Louis nods emphatically. “M’grandma said the same thing!”

“Yeah, so I’ve always been dramatic when it comes to finding my soulmate, and I basically cried on Perrie’s shoulder for a few days straight after you left me that first night.”

“I’m so sorry about that, Harry, I just--”

“I understand, Lou, don’t worry. It’s all okay now.” Harry reaches for Louis’ hand, pressing a kiss to it and swinging it gently by his side.  “I’m just glad you came back.”

The dying winter cold doesn't bother Louis for the rest of the walk, his body flushed with a warm glow. They reach a small set of flats, less flashy than Louis’ but much nicer than Harry’s hovel.

“Forgive me,” Louis begins as they walk up the stairs. “Why do you live in such a--”

“Shithole? Don’t worry, I know what you think. It’s not the nicest place, and I work three jobs besides. But, my mum is out of work back home and I’m trying to just help her out, y’know? Single mom, two kids. M’sister’s getting her doctorate right now, so she’s got debt up to her ears. And if mum doesn’t find out about my living conditions, we’re all good.” He finishes with a smile, rapping on the door in front of them.

“Harry!” Niall shouts when he opens the door. He pulls Harry into a hug, glancing at Louis as well. “Ah, you two finally made up? Harry’s been in a right state about you, y’know.”

Harry blushes, shaking his head and pulling Louis inside. “Don’t listen to a word Niall says. He and Perrie’ll be the death of me.”

“We’re the ones protecting you, love,” Perrie chimes in as they enter the kitchen. Louis takes in the bright colors and sizzling smells as he greets Perrie.

“Lovely to meet you again,” she begins. “Don’t go breakin’ this one’s heart, yeah?” She presses a kiss to his cheek.

“No worries, I’ll try my best,” Louis replies self-consciously. Harry simply takes his hand again, pressing a kiss to the side of his head and leading him from the room.

“We’re going to go say hi to the others, but pour us some wine!” Harry calls behind him.

They walk into the living room and Louis sees three girls sprawled across the small loveseat.

“Louis, meet Jesy, Leigh-Anne, and Jade,” Harry introduces, pointing to each girl. “Girls, meet Louis. My soulmate.”

All three girls squeal.

“Harry, he’s absolutely adorable!” Leigh-Anne gushes. The other two girls nod, giggling at each other. “You’ve done well, both of you.”

“Much as I love the praise, um, I think Louis’ll be very interested in your story?” Harry replies, settling down on the couch across from the girls. Louis sits next to him, leaving space between them before Harry reaches and cuddles him flush against his side.

“I’ll do the honors,” Jesy begins, kicking Jade’s feet off of her lap. “So, Louis.” She makes eye contact with him, her smoky eyes piercing. “Us three, we’re soulmates.”

Louis is shocked. “What? How is that possible?”

“Yeah! That’s what we said,” Jesy continues. “I mean, everyone preaches about how soulmates are supposed to be that one true love that you stay with for the rest of your life, the one who completes you, y’know? No one ever thinks that it could be more than two people. But, we met at a bar.” All three pull up their shirt sleeves, displaying their tattoos.

“Y’see, Jade--clumsy girl--dropped her drink. I was workin’ as a bartender and Leigh-Anne here was trying to chat up some bird from Scotland. Jade’s cocktail spilled all over Leigh-Anne’s dress--”

“So I shouted out ‘watch it, mate’,” Leigh-Anne cuts in, “just as Jade turns to Jesy and says ‘sorry, love’, while Jesy turns to me and says ‘y’alright?’”

The three girls sigh, smiling at each other, and Louis glances at their arms. “So, just like that? Soulmates?”

Jade giggles. “Well, we thought it was just a fluke, too, but then we felt that bond, y’know? The soulmates one. And I knew I was gonna spend the rest of my life with these girls, fuck what society says.” She leans over and presses a kiss to Leigh-Anne’s cheek.

“That’s...that’s really amazing,” Louis says, the words thick in his throat. “Um, I’m really happy for you guys, it’s beautiful, really.”

Louis feels tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Noticing, Harry pulls him away into a small hallway between the two larger rooms.

“See?” he whispers, “you might not think that what we are is normal, but society can be wrong about soulmates. It sure was wrong about those three girls. Their relationship is the strongest I’ve ever seen.” He presses his forehead to Louis’. “Even if we never do anything sexual, we’re soulmates, alright? And I love you, and I want to learn about you for the rest of my life.”

The tears are flowing freely, and Louis sniffles because if that isn’t the sweetest gesture anyone has ever made for him. Wiping his face as much as possible, Louis leans up and presses his lips to Harry’s.

The kiss is...indescribable. It’s like coming home and a great adventure all at once. Louis is surrounded by Harry, his smell and his arms and his face and just Harry, filling every one of his senses. His soul feels warm and bright, a saying Louis would think stupid in any other context. But rationality is thrown to the wind when he kisses Harry. Louis thinks that might be a good metaphor for their relationship.


End file.
